The Kingdom of Nibble Was Eaten By A Squirrel
by Ashabagawa
Summary: The inhabitants of the kingdom of Nibble have spent the last few hundred years doing frivolous things, such as having their nasal hair plaited. However, with the threat of invasion will the kingdom leap into action? Or will they be eaten by a squirrel?
1. Life and Time Get On Each Other's Nerves

**Chapter One – **

Life has a strange way of sorting out people's affairs. More often than not, it fluffs something up and just leaves the matter for Time to sort out. Time sometimes gets a bit annoyed by this and occasionally decides to muck about, just to get on Life's nerves.

This is how our story begins...

Once upon a time, there was a stereotypical king of a stereotypical kingdom called Nibble. He, in turn, had around seventeen thousand stereotypical daughters who were all, like, really beautiful and shit. "Hang on!" I hear you say. "How on Earth is it possible for one man to have seventeen thousand daughters?" Well, this was one of those times Life fluffed something up. Yes, that's right. Blame Life.

Anyway, yes. All of the king's daughters (let's call him Bilp) were all exceedingly beautiful and could sing like pretty much every nightingale in the kingdom. (Except the drunk ones; Bilp had a thing about alcoholism.) Yet, instead of cherishing all of his wonderfully gorgeous and talented spawn, he yearned for a boy, because that is what stereotypical kings do.

"Crikey," King Bilp said one day, leaning out of the window and staring across the landscape of the excruciatingly beautiful kingdom of Nibble. "I could really do with a bloke around my excruciatingly beautiful palace..." Only that morning, a princess named Gloria #3 discovered that her comb had been nicked and had needed to be sedated by several court physicians. Only last week, Lucy#9 broke a nail and her screams could have been heard by the inhabitants of the neighbouring kingdom of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl. (Nice place by the way.) There was only so much girly-ness that Bilp could take.

Bilp sighed in an exasperated fashion. This would not be easy.

For a start, he had run out of women to marry. Seventeen thousand daughters don't come from nowhere (even if they are stereotypical) and soon enough, Bilp had exhausted the kingdom's entire supply of women. "Why didn't he just stick with the one then?" I hear you ask. Well, King Bilp never was exactly the most attractive bloke in the universe and the new wives seemed to have an annoying habit of divorcing him.

Bilp consulted his brain for cunning plans. Unfortunately, he seemed to have exhausted his supply of cunningness only that morning stealing Princess Gloria #3's comb. He had also splashed out on a bit of cunningness last week by breaking Princess Lucy #9's nail while she wasn't looking. He was all out of cunning.

Bilp sighed again, it was becoming a habit.

Apart from the lack of male heir, the kingdom of Nibble had been fairly quiet for the last few hundred years of King Bilp's rein. "Hang on! How can one man rule for over a few centuries?!" I hear you wail in confusion. Well, this was Time's response to Life fluffing up the daughter issue. An eye for an eye and all that...

Anyway, the kingdom of Nibble had been a fairly quiet place for the last few hundred years. The people had been able to get on with their lives, paying way too much for cheesecake, building estates in the middle of farmer's fields without permission and creating really boring documentaries about themselves for no reason whatsoever. So, of course, it was about time somebody invaded.

Question of invasion, however, was quite possibly the last thing on King Bilp's mind as he hung out of the 19th storey window of the royal palace.

"Oh deary, dear..." He groaned. "I could really do with a fella..."

*

Upstairs, in one of the more secluded of the towers, Princess Sarah #563 was busy brushing her hair. There was no particular reason why five hundred and sixty three of King Bilp's daughters were called Sarah; he just seemed to like the name. Princess Sarah #563 found the sharing of a name degrading and so asked her friends to call her Ted for short.

Ted finished combing her hair and turned to her mirror.

"Hello, Mirror..." She said.

"Howdy there, Ted!" It replied, in an overly perky manner. "How are you today?"

"I'm ok, thanks." Ted replied. "How're you?"

"Well..." The mirror began. "I'm still a bit bummed about being attached to a wall. My mate Brian's part of a mosaic and he reckons it's a bit more exciting. But, apart from that, I'm ok really."

"Good." Ted smiled a beautiful smile that made the mirror's nonexistent heart melt with love and cuddles and joy. "What do I look like?"

"Lovely..." The mirror replied with difficulty, due to the fact its nonexistent heart was melting.

"Why thanks!" Ted flashed the mirror another grin and it winced and more melting followed. "Are you ok?"

"Yes..." The mirror squeaked. "Just don't grin anymore."

"Ok..."

"My God, Ted," The mirror gasped. "You're so obliging!"

"It's nothing!" Ted was about to grin again, but she caught herself just in time.

At that precise moment in time, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Ted sang in the manner of a definitely not drunken nightingale. The door opened and a squire bowed deeply.

"Your highness..." He said. "Here is an invitation to the royal ball."

"But I am royal," Ted said, taking the invitation. "Why do I need an invitation to my own ball?"

"Copyright." The squire replied, as if that settled the matter.

"Oh er...right." Ted opened the letter.

It was typed in an annoyingly elegant script.

_You are invited to King Bilp of Nibble's Summer Ball. It's going to be quite posh so wear something nice, otherwise we will be forced to pretend we don't know who you are. Desserts will be shot. _

"Erm..." Ted said. "You know this bit about shooting desserts?"

"Yes?"

"Well...erm....what does that mean?"

"It's a typo." The squire explained. "By the time we noticed it, we'd already printed out about five hundred and we really couldn't be arsed to turn the thing off."

"Oh." Ted frowned. "What is it supposed to say then?"

"Deserters."

"Oh, right."

"I like trifle." The mirror piped up.

"So do I." Ted said, smiling.

"If you don't mind," The squire said in a manner that quite clearly stated that he didn't care whether she minded or not. "I'd better be off. I've got another sixteen thousand, eight hundred and forty nine of these buggers to deliver..." He indicated the bag of invitations. "...and I think I'd better press on."

"You mean you have to deliver one to every single princess?" The mirror asked.

"Yes." Said the squire.

"Don't your feet hurt?"

"Yes they do." There was silence.

"Bugger of a world isn't it?" The mirror said.

"Yes it is..." The squire jostled the bag mournfully. "I'd better get going...bye..." The door shut behind him and the mirror watched it for a few moments, sympathy for the squire building up inside him. Thoughts of the blisters on the poor little chap's feet conjuring up feelings of sorrow the mirror never knew he had within him -

"So, a ball..." Ted said, turning the invitation over in her hands. "I need a killer outfit, Big M."

"Big M?" The mirror asked.

"Yeah, Big M." Ted smiled. "I thought it would be cool if I called you that..."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Right." Silence.

"Anyway, so about this dress..." Ted crossed to the desk in one corner of the room and pulled a piece of parchment towards her, scattering the no doubt priceless trinkets, where they rolled off the desk and smashed on the floor. "It has to be bold..." Ted began to sketch, her tongue peeking out as she drew.

"I like it..." The mirror said. "But what are you expecting to achieve from this event?"

"Cake." Ted replied simply. Her answer was self – explanatory. The mirror nodded darkly.

Little did they know, that roughly two miles away, a magician was turning a squirrel into an evil psychopath...


	2. Scheming Schemers

**Chapter Two – Scheming Schemers **

The magician's name was Grundelwort and the squirrel's name was Damien. They were sitting on a log called Bert in a under a tree called Joe. Sometimes that's just the way things roll.

Grundelwort glanced down at Damien, who was sitting awkwardly on Bert, his rear legs exactly at a right angle.

"So..." Grundelwort began. "You want to be an evil psychopath, eh?"

"Yes Mr Wizard, sir!" Damien gabbled. "More than anything, sir!"

"Hang on, lad!" Grundelwort chuckled, holding up a knobbly, wizened hand. "I'll do as you ask. But first you must answer me one simple question."

"Yes, sir."

Grundelwort squinted at Damien through his glasses. "Are you sure this is what you want more than anything else in the whole entire world?"

"I'll tell you what I want more than anything..." Bert piped up, grumpily. "I want to be a tree again, like that lucky bugger." He gestured, using his special log power, up to where Joe was now awkwardly rustling his leaves.

"Oh c'mon, Bert!" He whined. "It's not my fault they chopped you down instead of me. I just happened to be made of poorer quality wood then you, that's all!"

"SHUT YOUR FACE, YOU SMUG BASTARD!"

Joe shut his face.

"Anyway..." Damien said. "...getting back on topic, yes I do want to be an evil psychopath more than anything else in the whole entire world."

"Good." Grundelwort said. "Now I can complete the incantation..."

He stood up and Bert let out a gasp of air.

"Thank God..." He breathed. Grundelwort ignored him and took up a position standing directly in front of Damien, feet hip-width apart.

"Repeat after me, squirrel." He said, his voice suddenly deep and commanding. Damien nodded hastily. "I, Damien the squirrel, hereby relinquish the control over my soul and body, and wish to utterly and totally become an evil psychopath." Damien nodded again.

"I, Damien the squirrel, hereby....erm..."

"Relinquish the control over my soul and body..." Grundelwort prompted.

"Oh yeah, relinquish the control over my soul and body...and...erm..."

"Wish to utterly and totally become an evil psychopath..."

"Wish to be utterly..."

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!" Bert yelled. "IT'S PERFECTLY SIMPLE! I HEREBY RELINQUISH THE CONTROL OVER MY SOUL AND BODY, AND WISH TO UTTERLY AND TOTALLY BECOME AN EVIL PSYCHOPATH!"

And so it was that Bert the log became an evil psychopath.

*

The royal palace of Nibble was actually rather large, due to the fact it had to house seventeen thousand and one people; the servants camped out the back in tents made out of dried leaves stitched together with spittle. The Royal Servants Union should really have been onto it, only the chairman of the organisation happened to be a little bit of a tit.

King Bilp was sitting in the royal hall, seated in a huge throne, wearing a crown constructed entirely out of magnesium. Now, as those of you science bods will have already realised, making a crown out of magnesium is not really a fantastic idea, as magnesium reacts with water rather drastically. It reacts by promptly bursting into flame. On top of Bilp's head. Exactly why the crown was constructed out of magnesium, we will probably never know; the only vague facts we are presented with are that it involved a broken sledgehammer, a foreign bishop and an exceedingly cheesed-off leek.

Anyway, there Bilp was in the royal hall pondering life and all things roughly spherical, when a squire walked in. Well, actually he didn't walk. He dragged himself across the stone flags, wailing as his bloody feet scraped a slightly uneven cobble.

"All of the invitations are delivered, sire." He grimaced.

"Good. Who have I sent them to?" Bilp asked.

"All of your daughters, sire."

"Oh. Is that it?"

"Well...yes, sire."

"Well we can't have that! I need noble people there as well!"

"But sire!"

"What?"

"You've married them all."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Bilp was silent for a moment.

"What about Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl?" He asked.

"What about it?"

"Have I married all of their inhabitants?"

"Well...no, sire."

"Well that settles it!" Bilp rubbed his hands together. "I'll get the prince or whoever to marry one of my daughters. That way I'll have a son!"

"Er, sire?"

"Yes?"

"May I point out one tiny little flaw in this perfectly planned scheme?" The squire propped his elbows on the flagstones so that he could look up at Bilp.

"Go on."

"The king of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl hates you."

"Oh yes..." Bilp thought for a moment. "No matter!" One of my daughters will charm him and his son round to my way of thinking. You'll see!" So saying, Bilp ruffled the squire's hair with his diamante slipper before skipping out of the hall.

"Oh hell..." The squire muttered, and face-planted the cobbles.

*

Ted was busy in her tower room, trying on dresses for the ball.

"What do you think, mirror?" She asked. The mirror looked up and wept heartily. Ted was wearing a beautiful blue dressy thing with lots of sparkly bits and rainbows.

"It's beautiful, Ted!" The mirror wailed. "I'm weeping with pride at seeing you so beautiful and lovely and heart meltingly. I love you Ted!"

"I love you too, mirror!" The hugged, in a way that was not at all weird.

Suddenly, a foghorn sounded from somewhere outside. Ted and the mirror jumped in alarm. A voice through a loudspeaker sounded through the open window.

"ALL DAUGHTERS OF KING BILP, PLEASE REPORT TO THE ROYAL COURTYARD OF ROYALNESS."

Ted skipped down the royal stairs and out into the royal courtyard of royalness. Thousands of her sisters were already there, wittering away. Unfortunately, the mirror had been unable to come and after many tears and around twenty minutes of trying to tear him away from the wall, they were both resigned to the fact that the mirror wasn't going to move. She'd have to fill him in later.

A stage had been set up in the middle of the courtyard. A squire was standing on top of it, sporting a strange marking across his face that looked like he'd just had a rather unfortunate run in with a cobbled floor.

"ROYAL DAUGHTERS!" He bellowed through the loudspeaker. "I HAVE BEEN ASKED TO INFORM YOU THAT THE KING OF FRGFWBVLJHECDWKGFL AND HIS SON, THE PRINCE OF FRGFWBVLJHECDWKGFL, WILL BE ATTENDING THE ROYAL BALL. I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LET OUT A GIRLY SCREAM..."

Sure enough, the courtyard erupted with the sound of hormonal, female adolescent screaming. The squire took cover underneath the stage.

"OK, SHUT UP NOW, PLEASE!" Came the command from somewhere beneath the stage. The princesses obliged, because they were just nice like that.

"THANK YOU." The squire poked his head out from underneath the stage and climbed back on top of it. "ANYWAY, YOU HAVE ALL BEEN INSTRUCTED TO WEAR SOMETHING REVEALING BY YOUR FATHER, BECAUSE IT WOULD BE RATHER HANDY FOR HIM IF THEYT FANCIED YOU. THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT." The loudspeaker clicked off and the squire climbed down from the stage. The seventeen thousand and one girls (a servant girl had sneaked in to have a look what was going on) all screamed in joy. Seventeen thousand and two people were engulfed in a massive cacophony of excitement (the cook had come to look for the servant girl) and then seventeen thousand girls all made for the exit (the cook have found the servant girl and had swiftly ejected her after giving her a clip round the ear).

In Ted's opinion, life couldn't get much better, but then she didn't know about the newly-spawned psychopathic log.


	3. Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl

**Thanks for all the reviews, they're really great! If I don't post another chapter beforehand, Merry Christmas! Oh and this chapter contains strong language, from a fairy godmother with tourettes. **

**Chapter Three – ****Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl**

The Kingdom of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl,much like the neighbouring kingdom of Nibble, was very peaceful and there was only really a slightly strained atmosphere when bread became a bit too pricey. This King of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl was called Bernard, and his son was called Liam.

King Bernard and Prince Liam lived quite happily in their peaceful little kingdom, shooting unsuspecting pigeons for fun and criticizing the residents of the local kingdom of Nibble. No one was really sure why King Bernard hated the Nibbleonians so much. Liam had a hunch it may have been due to the fact that King Bilp had once beaten him at 'Blind Man's Buff' although he couldn't be sure.

Whatever the cause, Bernard hated Bilp so much that whenever the words 'Nibble', 'Bilp', 'Blind Man's Buff' or 'seventeen thousand excruciatingly beautiful daughters' were uttered, Bernard would fly into a huge sulk and not speak for several days. Sometimes, when he was getting a bit sick of his father, Liam would slip one into conversation on purpose (the last one was fairly tricky to do casually), so that he could have the next few days Bernard-free.

Liam himself was a bit of an anomaly. As far as princes go, Liam wasn't much cop. Princes were handsome, dashing and courageous. Liam was timid, conservative and had the sex appeal of a wet tissue. As the only son of King Bernard, Liam would one day have to rule the kingdom and Bernard found himself despairing over the very idea that his son may one day have control over more than what he had for breakfast.

On that special, fateful, destiny-shaping day, Bernard and Liam were sitting in the great hall of the castle, busy comparing dead pigeons, when a squire marched in.

The squire was sporting the House of Nibble emblem on his tunic and Bernard flew off to his bedroom to have a sulk, leaving Liam to deal with the arrival.

"Why hello there!" Liam waved.

"Hello." The squire replied. "I have an invitation to the Royal Ball taking place at Nibble Royal Palace."

"Why, thank you." Liam extracted the invitation from the squire's leather gloves.

_Dear Arch Nemesis,_

_I understand you may be taken aback at being invited to my ball, although you'd better get over it quickly as I have important matters of __bisniss biseness buisnrss _ _important things to discuss. _

_Your son is now about seventeen, I gather. Old enough to marry. Around nine thousand of my daughters are that age also and so he will have plenty to choose from. If we one day decide to do anything about our hatred, it will probably be war and that would be messy. Instead, I propose a union between the Houses of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl and Nibble. In other words, marriage. You should be glad, really. My daughters are all excruciatingly beautiful while your son has the sex appeal of a wet tissue. I'm enclosing the standard invitation as well. If you are pondering accepting my invitation, bear in mind the fact that my army is a lot bigger than yours. _

_You'd better bloody come,_

_King Bilp of Nibble_

Liam gulped and read the invitation.

"Desserts will be shot?" He asked.

"It's a typo."

"Oh, right." Liam gulped again.

"When is it?" He asked.

"In about an hour." The squire answered and turned on his heel. "We expect you to be there. Goodbye." He left.

Liam went up to his bedroom in a state of shock. He would have no choice but to go of course, not unless he wanted the country flattened by Nibble's army. And by the looks of the depth of the sulk his father was in, he would be going alone. But how on earth was he to come across attractive to a group of excruciatingly beautiful women? In a fit of anxiety, he pushed the door to his room open.

On the bed, was a fat old woman, picking at a spot on her chin."

"Who the hell are you?" Liam asked, shakily.

"I'm your f****** fairy godmother, you tit!" She barked. At the look on Liam's face she added, "Tourettes."

"Oh, right."

"I'm here to make you look hunky for that f****** ball."

"I see." The Fairy Godmother sat him down in a chair near the window and got to work with a pair of scissors she pulled out of her pocket.

"I'm going to give you..." She sang as she worked. "...a f****** side fringe and a f****** rumpled look."

"I see."

"I'm going to use this f****** hair gel to kind of flumf it f****** up a bit. Do you f****** mind?"

"Not at all."

"F****** good."

A few snips and a million 'f***'s later, Liam's hair was finished.

"Can I look now?"

"No. I want you to only f****** see it when I have done the whole f****** lot."

"Oh, ok." The Fairy Godmother clicked her fingers and he had a six pack. "Wow." Liam said. "You're handy..."

"I f****** know!" The Fairy Godmother said. Almost out of nowhere she pulled out a mirror.

"Oi!" The mirror said. "I belong in Ted's room! Put me back!"

"Shut the f*** up." The Fairy Godmother said.

"Ok." Said the Mirror. Liam was speechless.

He now had layered, highlighted hair that was tousled in a kind of bed-head way that didn't make him look like a hermit. His body had lots of muscles popping out from all over the place and he was actually on the border of fancying himself.

"Wow..." He said, checking himself out again.

"Now be back before f****** midnight or....erm...bad things will f****** happen."

"Alright." Liam left the Fairy Godmother with the mirror, went downstairs and climbed into his Aston Martin.


	4. Ballington Balls

**A/N – Chapters have been very slow in arriving due to the fact I have had several hundred million weeks of studying for 'Bloody Exams'. I finished my final maths one today and although I probably failed dismally, I am being positive in the manner of a very positive, shiny, happy person and am glad the little buggers are over. This will hopefully mean I get more time to write. Hopefully. **

**Chapter Four – Ballington Balls**

Bert the Log had decided to make his first move as an evil psychopath a stylish one and had set out designing his evil psychopath outfit on a big A3 sketcher's pad. Unfortunately, he was a log and so he had quite a bit of difficulty holding the pencil. Bearing this in mind, he had hired a little bird named Blue Tit to help him. (The bird had trouble holding the pencil too, but that way, Bert could quite happily blame someone else for his inadequacies.)

Mr B. Tit had spent his whole life being bored out of his mind with life as a bird and was suitably thrilled at the prospect at becoming an evil minion.

"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it!" He gushed, flapping his wings in an annoyingly perky manner.

"Well you can stop that for a start." Bert said, gesturing (yet again using special log powers) to his wings. The bird obliged. "Now..." Bert said. "Your name...it's a bit...unusual, isn't it? Tit. That's your last name, right?"

Tit nodded. "There have been several generations of Tits, sir."

"I see..." Bert said. "You don't mind me calling you a tit, then?"

"Certainly not, sir!" Tit exclaimed. "I bear the honourable name of Tit with pride and honour."

"Fine." Bert turned back to his A3 pad. "I need some helps deciding on my outfit. I'm having some trouble....none of them are quite gay enough."

"Mmm..." Tit thought for a moment before grasping the HB pencil in his wing and scribbling away at the paper. When he had finished, he stepped back and presented Bert with what he had drawn.

The suit was simple, but effective. It was basically a long, shiny black tube with eyeholes and sleeves for some of the more sturdy twigs sticking out of Bert. It also had a long back cape but more importantly, it was exactly the right degree of gay.

"Good work, Tit." Bert said. "I'll wear it to the Royal Nibble Ball."

*

The mirror magically reappeared in Ted's bedroom.

"ZOMG." The mirror gushed. "You have no idea how hunky the Prince of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl is."

Ted squealed.

"I bet he's GORGEOUS!!" They both melted into a crescendo of annoyingly nasal giggling until there was an angry knock from the inside of the wardrobe door.

"Shut the hell up!" Came a voice. "Some of us are trying to sulk!"

Ted and the mirror stared at the wardrobe. Tentatively, Ted opened the door. Crouched in the corner, amongst shoes and the moulding corpses of ex-parliamentary ministers, was a squirrel.

"My god, Ted." The mirror gasped. "Why have you got a sulking squirrel in your wardrobe?"

"I have no idea..." Ted said, dragging one particularly fat corpse out of the wardrobe in order to get a better look at the squirrel.

"Sod off." The squirrel said, flashing two furry fingers up at Ted from over its bushy tail.

"Not until you tells me what ails you, good squirrel." Ted said, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Yeah..." The mirror chimed in. "...besides, it's her wardrobe."

"Fine." The squirrel stood up, standing on the knee of one of the dead bodies. "My name is Damien the Squirrel and I am a failure in the art of being an evil psychopath. "

"I see..." Ted said, busy in the process of not seeing at all. Damien sighed.

"Have you heard of a log called Bert?" He asked. Ted shook her golden, lovely, radiant, sunflower and pickle curls. The mirror shook his frame. "Lucky you..." The squirrel grimaced. "He completely nicked my opportunity to become an evil psychopath, just because I forgot a few of the words when Grundelwort asked me to repeat them."

"Can't you just get hold of this Grundelwort and ask him to repeat it again?" Ted asked, her blue eye big and earnest.

"No, you stupid bint." Damien replied. "Legal practises need to be sorted out, forms filled in...and I've completely forgotten my blood type and the address of my doctor's surgery."

"Oh."

"Anyway..." Damien said. "I'd be careful about this Bert. He's dangerous."

"He's a log." The mirror said, sceptically.

"Never stopped Jesus." Damien said. The mirror frowned.

"Jesus wasn't a log. He was a man."

"Was he?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Sorry."

*

By the time the Ball had started, everyone was in a complete tizz. Guests were arriving and the squire was unable to announce their names as some bugger had nicked his megaphone. He had a sneaking suspicion it was Louisa#74, although he couldn't be too sure. The cook had run out of ingredients and was now adding unorthodox components, such as spittle and human hair, into the trifle.

The hall itself had been decorated, although someone seemed to have gone a bit mental with the streamers, as they now covered every surface, every inch of floor, every chandelier and pretty much anything that stood still, or paused to draw breath. The squire had a sneaking suspicion that he had actually lost several of his staff in the mess of streamers.

Suddenly, a fat old woman appeared at his side, picking at spots on her chin.

"Ewww..." The squire said. "Who invited you?"

"No one." The lady said. "I'm your f*cking fairy godmother, innit?"

"Hang on!" Yell out the readers in chorus. "This daft bat is Prince Liam's fairy godmother, not the squire's." Well yes, but the squire's fairy godmother was on sick leave, although everyone reckoned she was actually in the Bahamas with some bloke she'd met over the internet.

"About bloody time!" The Squire exclaimed.

"Oi." The fairy godmother grasped the squire's neck, as if to throttle him. "It's MY f*cking job to swear."

"Oh right...sorry..." The squire wheezed. The fairy godmother released his throat.

"Good." She stepped back and surveyed the room. "What a f*cking mess..."

"I know!" The squire threw his arms up in the air. "What am I going to do?"

"Absolutely f*cking nothing." The fairy godmother said. "Stay right there..." She waved her wand.

Immediately, the streamers disappeared into Oblivion (a close friend of Life, but not of Time; Oblivion disapproved of Time's boyfriend) and were replaced with diamonds and pearls, cascading elegantly onto the tabletops. Drapes were everywhere, tastefully arranged around the bouquets of exotic flowers that had also just appeared.

"ZOMG..." The squire exclaimed.

"Don't f*cking mention it..." The fairy godmother said. "Here's my business card..." She handed him a small white card.

_Fairy Godmother's Inc. _

_For heartaches and back aches, though Fiona is particularly good at the backaches; she's been on a course and everything!_

_Contact Us: __**pumpkins_and_mice_ain't_all_we_can_**_

"Erm...thanks..." The squire said. "Will you take no method of payment?"

"Yes I f*cking will!" The fairy godmother said, suddenly. "Now let me see..." Her eyes swept the length of the room. "I'll have a bit of that cherry roulade." She said, picking up a spoon and shovelling it into her mouth. "I'll be f*cking off now." With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared off into Oblivion, who was already a bit full due to the load of paper streamers.

*

The time of the ball was soon nigh. Princesses were everywhere, flapping newly mascara-ed eyelashes, adjusting their wonderbras that lifted their contents far above the scooping necklines of the now fit to burst ball gowns and shouting incessantly at servants. They weren't always excruciatingly lovely.

Down in the car park, Liam was climbing out of his Aston Martin, adjusting his hair in the rear view mirror. He had already noticed a gaggle of hormonal, teenage and excruciatingly beautiful girls near the entrance to the great hall and was preparing himself to march over to them and have them all fall onto their knees in front of him, when a movement in the corner of the mirror caught his eye.

Through one of the windows of the palace wall, Liam could see a girl, having a casual conversation with a mirror and also a squirrel, although it wasn't the talking mirror or the talking squirrel that was the object of his fascination; it was the girl.

She had golden, shining locks of hair that fell to just above her waist, complementing her complexion to an almost painful degree of perfection. When she smiled, Liam found himself squinting as light beams bounced off her almost luminous white teeth, bathing him in a spotlight of minty-freshness. And my God, what a smile it was. Even the grass took a severe beating to its self esteem when the girl smiled.

Liam stared at the girl in the rear view mirror and gulped. Who was this wonderful, amazing, female Adonis? Or should that be Adonisette? Or is that sexist? Should it be Adonisina? Either way, she was gorgeous and Liam realised with a leaping of his internal organs (including his spleen) that he was in love.

Without giving the hormonal teenage girls a second glance, he marched straight into the entrance hall, ready to track down and pronounce his love to the girl of his dreams.

*

Bert and Tit were busy sipping champagne in the great hall: a feat the Bert found most difficult as the finer of his twigs kept breaking off and landing in his dainty champagne flute. Tit was frantically trying to be a good minion and was fishing them out with his beak before Bert had a chance to choke on his own limbs.

Suddenly, there was a fanfare and a squire appeared on a small wooden platform at the far end of the hall, near the door.

"Welcome to the Royal Nibble Ball!" The squire announced, speaking through a large megaphone. "Please give a warm welcome to special guests, King Thor and his latest bimbo, Lady Nessa Traverish..." A spotlight swirled across the dance floor and found the couple in question near the punch bowl. They both waved dutifully as applause echoed around the hall. "...and also to Prince Liam of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl." The spotlight swivelled again and found Prince Liam craning his neck around a few pillars, as if looking for someone. Having realised the whole ballroom was now watching him, he started and waved half-heartedly. "Finally..." The squire announced. "...please welocome Evil Psychopath Bert the Log and his evil minion Mr...erm...are you sure that's right?...Mr...erm...Tit..." Bert and Tit smiled and waved.

"All in good time, Tit..." Bert murmured. "...all in good time."

*

Due to the conversation she'd had with Damien and the mirror, Ted was slightly late to the ball. As she climbed down the grand staircase, her beautiful dress fanned out behind her like a glimmering ocean of lake. She smiled down at the room below her, taking in the gaggle of her sisters ready to ambush the first eligible bachelor they could find. Near the punch table, a log was having a conversation with a small, blue bird, which Ted couldn't help finding a bit odd, but then, she was the one who had just finished talking to a squirrel and a mirror. She glanced over to the corner of the room and her heart stopped.

In the corner of the room, sipping a glass of punch and wincing as the acidity of the drink began to eat away at his internal organs, was an absolutely gorgeous young man. His hair was highlighted and tousled in that slightly-gay-but-not fashion that so many teenage girls seem to find attractive. Underneath the tight leather jacket, muscles sandwiched themselves to his torso and arm, showing themselves off smugly. What's more, the key to an Aston Martin dangled out of the pocket of his skinny jeans and Ted's heart faltered once again: this bloke had money.

Without a moment to lose, (for fear her sisters would find him first) Ted darted across the dance floor shoving aside the innocent bystanders that mingled inconspicuously with each other. When she gauged she was near enough, she perched on the edge of a table, lifting her skirt coyly over one knee.

"Looking for someone?" She asked, lowering her voice as so to appear mysterious and alluring. The man started. When he saw her, he turned an interesting shade of purple.

"Erm...yes...I...erm..." He stammered.

"Nice car." Ted said.

"Oh...thanks." Liam smiled; this was familiar territory. "Are you into cars yourself?"

"Not really..." Ted said. "Only expensive ones."

"Oh."

"I like balls though!" Ted exclaimed. Liam snorted into his punch.

"Yes." He said. "I think it depends on the size, though. The bigger the better, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh definitely." Ted said, blinking her huge, blue eyes. "Small balls are no fun at all." Liam shoved his fist in his mouth to stop himself laughing.

"I agree...although I do think it depends on who's throwing them."

"Yes. Balls must be very carefully arranged." Ted smiled. Liam nearly suffered a seizure through lack of laughing.

"My name is Liam." He said, hastily changing the subject. "Liam, Prince of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl."

"OH MY GOD!!" Ted squealed. "I'm Princess Ted of Nibble!"

"Cool!" They smiled sheepishly at each other.

"Want to go dance?"

"Yeah."

Everyone thought the ball seemed to be going relatively well, although they didn't know that Bert had just sellotaped a pipe bomb to the leg of the punch table.

**A/N – I've started a poll on my profile to try to work out which stories to focus on in the future. Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks. Oh, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading. **


	5. Really Bad

**Chapter Five – Really Bad**

Ted and Liam were already on the dance floor, nervously doing the WMCA, when the bomb went off. It was actually quite a big bomb and occupied most people's attention for the next few hours.

It blew a hole in the side of the castle, meaning that quite a few people died. Of course, the deceased were all just background characters, so we'll skirt over this fact quickly. The important thing is that Ted's hair billowed back from her face which was already covered in muck, though artistically so and her cuts and bruises were all dainty and cute, if that's possible, which it obviously is.

Liam's hair was windswept also, in the manner of a Calvin Klein model or similar. The muck and debris covered his face evenly, so it looked like he'd just spent a week in the Canary Islands rather than had just survived a bomb blast. Just thought I'd iron that one out.

Bert cackled manically from behind a large, bomb blast protective screen. What do you mean those things don't exist? Of course they don't; I made it up. Ahem.

"This is where it gets interesting..." Bert mumbled to Tit, who was whimpering pathetically due to the fact his rear end had stuck out of the end of the screen and his tail feathers were a bit singed.

King Bilp pulled himself up from the dessert table, looking ever so slightly peeved.

"WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?" He screamed, not bothering to star out his rudeness. Yes. He was that angry.

"Well sire..." The squire pulled himself out of a squire shaped-hole in the wall. "...it appears as though a bomb has gone off..."

For the next couple of minutes, the King busied himself with the complicated task of disembowelling the squire with a trifle dish. After this had been completed and the squire's spleen lay a fair distance away from the rest of his vital organs, King Bilp stood up and addressed the crowd of terrified people beneath him.

"Noble Citizens of Nibble..." He began, his voice echoing down the hallway.

"Actually..." The squire's spleen said. "...we've got a guest from Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl, remember? Prince Liam?" King Bilp suddenly felt something click in his brain. It was either a spark of inspiration or a rather nasty brain tumour, but I think it's more likely to be the former as, instead of writing around on the floor in pain, his eyes seemed to light up and his head snapped over to where Ted and Liam were standing, brushing rubble off each other in an ever so slightly suggestive fashion.

"YOU!" King Bilp's cry could easily have been heard from the other side of the room. In fact, it could have quite easily have busted up your eardrums if you were standing in the next village, so it's a good job Ted and Liam have very sturdy eardrums.

"Me?" Ted asked, pointing a dainty finger at her well endowed chest. Liam followed the direction of her finger with interest.

"No, not you, you stupid bint!" Bilp yelled. "Him!" He pointed a fat finger at Liam, who was still ogling the front of Ted's dress, dribbling slightly. With a shove from Ted, he snapped out of his no doubt completely savoury and universally rated daydream.

"What?" He asked, having noticed that everyone in the ballroom was looking at him, including a spleen lying some feet away, squished on the floor.

Bilp crossed the dance floor in record time, before grabbing the front of Liam's leather jacket and holding him up against the wall.

"You planned this, you little shit!" He barked, bits of spit landing in Liam's eyes. Nice.

"No, Daddy!" Ted exclaimed, making a completely pathetic, yet glamorous attempt to pull her father's hands away from Liam's neck. "He didn't do anything!"

"Oh yeah?" Bilp spat. "Nothing except destroy half the bloody palace!"

Liam had trouble replying due to the fact his windpipe was being crushed by Bilp's meaty hand.

"Htrfdeuekfhff..." He gurgled.

"What?" Bilp spat.

"Daddy, you're crushing his windpipe..."

"Oh, sorry." Bilp loosened his grip on Liam's neck. After taking a few gulps of gloriously unrestricted air and returning to a normal, roughly human colour, Liam started to explain himself.

"I really have no idea what you're on about..." He said, his feet dangling beneath him as Bilp held him up against the wall. "...I'm as shocked about the bomb as you are, mate."

"Bollocks." Bilp replied. "You and your father have had it in for us for years now. This was your opportunity to get to us." He stepped back. "LEAVE THIS PLACE, LIAM OF FRGFWBVLJHECDWKGFL, AND NEVER RETURN!" He bellowed. Ted started to cry. Liam pulled himself away from the wall and, with a suggestive wink towards Ted, started to walk towards the car park, which was now completely visible through the hole in the wall.

"I WILL RETURN, O' BILP OF NIBBLE," Liam bellowed back, to the partially demolished ballroom at large. "AND I WILL BRING WITH ME AN ARMY OF WARRIORS THAT ARE MORE DEADLY THAN A KALASHNIKOV, SPEEDIER THAN A LAMBORGHINI AND MAKE BETTER CURRIES THAN GORDON RAMSAY. TOGETHER WE WILL RETURN AND FREE NIBBLE OF THE TYRANNY OF KING BILP!"

With this terrifying sentiment, Liam stepped out of the ruined castle and climbed into his Aston Martin.

"Well that went well..." muttered the squire's spleen from the floor.

"I'll never see him again..." sniffled Ted, staring after the rapidly disappearing sportscar.

"Too right, you won't!" Bilp replied. "Nibble is now at war. Assemble the army!"

And with those words, the fates of two whole populations, a log and a squirrel, were sealed.


	6. The Dawn of the Emo

**Chapter Six – The Dawn of the Emo**

Ted cried for several days. So much so, that she actually flooded her bedroom and nearly drowned herself. This is actually quite an interesting story in itself as, in the words of the flood control warden that came to rescue her, '..how did all that water fit inside her in the first place?' The same warden then went on to use a few choice descriptions on exactly what sort of person Ted was, but I'll leave them out so I don't upset the little kiddies...or get sued.

Back to the fundamental point: Ted was upset. Well...devastated, really. She was so upset that she was so busy moping about her heart being broken that she forgot to be beautiful, kind, clever and sweet. This was a bit of a blow for Bilp.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He screamed, upon opening the door to her bedroom after her prolonged absence from mealtimes had made him contemplate the fact that she could be dead. Standing in the doorway, sporting unnaturally black hair and a _Slipknot _t-shirt, was an emo. "What vile creature from all forty seven corners of the world is this?" He exclaimed; he'd never seen a creature as terrifying before.

"I'm Ted." The emo said. "Deal with it." With that, Ted slammed the door in her father's face and went back to her iPod where she drowned out her father's shrieks to the slightly ultrasonic noise of _Fall Out Boy's_ latest album.

"My God..." Damien muttered. "...she's flipped."

"A shame..." The mirror replied, also muttering so as not to provoke the emo into a towering rage. They'd already witnessed the effects of an angry emo (Damien didn't think his tail would ever feel the same again) and were eager not to witness them again. Emos were dangerous.

Ted continued to buck her head in time with the monotonous beat of screamoness.

"What are we going to do?" Damien whispered. "Liam'll never love her like this..."

Liam was having an interesting day. After being banished from Nibble, the clock had struck midnight and he'd been forced to walk all the way back to Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl. His six pack, the Aston Martin, the leather jacket and the highlights had all gone, leaving the old, now slightly tired Liam in its place.

"I hate my life…" muttered the old Liam.

King Bernard of Nibble was in the dining room. When his son trudged in, he looked up from the pigeon he was barbequing.

"What the hell happened to you?" He asked, turning the bird over on the spit.

"We're at war with Nibble." Liam replied. Bernard dropped the pigeon on the cold, cobbled floor and ran off to his private chambers to have a sulk.

Liam flopped down in the throne.

"What the hell am I going to do?" He muttered to no one in particular.

"I don't know." No one in particular replied. "Ask someone who cares."

Tit smiled a beaky smile. How is it possible for a smile to be beaky, you say? Easy. Ask Tit.

"We have done well, Tit." Bert said, rustling his twigs smugly. "Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl and Nibble are now at war…just as I planned…."

"Indeed O'Master…" Tit groveled. "No one could have created such a master plan as you, my master."

"True, true…" Bert waved a wing. "I am rather fabulous. Let's go out for a curry to celebrate."

Tit whooped in the manner of an enthusiastic person and, using Bert's special log power, they flew to the local Indian Take-Away.

"Shit." Bilp said, once in the privacy of his own office. "I may have just made a booby."

"A booby?" Asked the squire's spleen from the jar in qhich it had been placed with some sort of preserving liquid.

"Yeah...you know. A booby. A mistake."

"Never heard that one before..."

"Really? Well now you know..." Bilp flopped into his throne. "Seriously though, what am I going to do?"

"Well..." The squire's spleen said. "There's no way the Nibble army could defeat the forces of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl alone….we're going to have to gather allies."

"Oh shit." Bilp replied. "I hate allies; I hate people."

"Do you want to win this war or not?"

"Yes…" Bilp replied meekly.

"Well you're going to have to make an effort!"

Bilp frowned.

"You've become a lot cheekier since you've become a spleen…" He said suddenly.

"It's what being carved up with a trifle dish does to you – you lose the respect for authority and start to appreciate life a bit more. Now move your arse and get some allies!" The spleen barked.

"Alright! Jesus…" Bilp went over to his writing desk and picked up a pen. "I'll write a list…" He said. "…of all the nations I need to be allied with."

"That's a good idea. Bilp!" The spleen said in a patronizing fashion. "Have a virtual gold star!" Bilp plucked the virtual gold star from the air and pinned it on his chest.

"Who shall I ask?" He asked.

"Well…" The spleen thought for a moment. "There's the Farting Dwarves of the Lower Orients…." Bilp scribbled down the name. "The Annoyingly Vague Elves of Shineyland….and The Mer People, although I'd start with the dwarves…."

"Alright…." Murmured Bilp, finishing scribbling the name. "You and me, spleen. We'll start tomorrow…."


End file.
